D R A C O W A R S

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who i write for

star wars

anakin skywalker

obi-wan kenobi

luke skywalker

han solo

poe dameron

din djarin

harry potter

draco malfoy

tom riddle

harry potter

cedric diggory

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grishaverse

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rafe cameron

jj maybank

stranger things

steve harrington

billy hargrove

game of thrones

jon snow

robb stark

miscellaneous

michael jackson

Just yesterday, it had looked like you might finally get an evening together. Something you hadn’t managed to do in weeks. Then, around afternoon, the first message arrived that he couldn’t leave early after all and would be back at eight. That damped your mood a little, but that still left enough time to spend at least a little time together, a few uninterrupted hours. Eight came and went. At 8:17 PM, your phone chimed again with another new message saying he wouldn’t make it home before midnight.

You had planned everything down to the last detail: cooking his favourite meal, enjoying a lovely candlelight dinner in the comfort of each other’s company instead of eating take-out on the couch, and watching a movie or picking up the series you’d neglected for weeks. You simply wanted to bring him some joy and offer him refuge from the stress of everyday life. To give him one evening where he didn’t have to think about choreography, cameras, interviews, or expectations. One evening where he could simply be Jaafar.

Unfortunately, there is very little about your relationship that’s simple these days.

Your gaze shifts from the candles to the empty vase on the shelf nearby. The sight feels wrong. For as long as you’ve known him, that vase had never stayed empty for more than a few days. Jaafar used to show up with flowers constantly. He didn’t need a reason to bring them, he just did.

Now, it’s been three weeks since the last bouquet he brought you.

Before filming had become all-consuming. Before every conversation became about rehearsals, choreography, costumes, and whether he was doing his uncle justice.

The rattling of keys at the door finally pulls you from your thoughts. Immediately, you straighten from where you’ve been leaning against the kitchen counter. You hear Jaafar open the door and step inside. The door clicks shut and he slips off his shoes before rounding the corner into the open-plan kitchen.

He stops abruptly upon seeing you.

He looks exhausted. Dark circles shadow his beautiful doe eyes. Somehow, impossibly, he looks even thinner than he had that morning and he’s still wearing his brown leather jacket.

“Hey”, you say softly, rounding the corner of the kitchen island to step in front of him.

“Hey, baby”, he greets you. The tired smile he gives you is genuine, but faint. He clearly hadn’t expected you to still be awake. He walks over and kisses your forehead before shrugging off his leather jacket, draping it over one of the bar stools.

It’s not the kind of kiss he used to give you. Not the kind that lingered and was full of affection. Just a quick, automatic kiss he needed to check off his list.

“Why are you still awake?”, he asks. His brow furrows as he takes in your outfit, clearly noticing that you’re still fully dressed instead of curled up in pyjamas. Only then does he notice the pot on the stove and the smell in the air.

“I made your favourite”, you say, gesturing toward the stove before motioning to the dining table. Jaafar’s gaze follows your movement and his face falls, guilt flashing across.

“Oh”, is all he says with a soft sigh. “You didn’t have to wait for me. I told you it was going to be late.”

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat.

“Well..”, you force a small smile. “We had a date, so I wanted to make the most of whatever time we had left.”

He looks at you with something heartbreakingly apologetic in his eyes, as though he already knows what he’s about to say is going to hurt you and he braces to watch the impact.

“That’s very sweet, baby”, he starts, but you don’t fall for it. You know a but when you hear one. “But I’ve had a.. tough day. I’m tired and not really hungry.”

You stare at him, your stomach sinking. “You’re not hungry?”

“I ate already.” His face and the tone of his voice instantly tell you that isn’t true. Normally, he’s happy when you make his favourite meal. Normally, he’d be all over the stove by now, asking what you’d made before he’d even taken off his shoes. You wanted to surprise him because you knew he’d had a long, exhausting day. The fact that he doesn’t even try to pretend he’s excited hurts more than you’re willing to admit.

“Where?”, you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Where what?”

“Where did you eat?”, you lift your brow and he looks away, unable to hold your gaze when you clearly see through him. His jaw tightens as he rubs a hand across his face.

“At the studio”, he answers, obviously feeling uncomfortable now, but you’re slowly getting agitated by his short answers.

“When?”, you question further. The silence that follows tells you everything you need to know. “Jaafar.”

“I’m just tired, okay?”, he sighs, fishing his phone out of the pocket of his denim jeans. He looks at it, either checking the time or checking for new messages, anything to distract him, before he places it on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, that’s surprising”, you snap in irony and immediately regret the words the second they leave your mouth. He looks at you with frustration all over his face. This is definitely not how you imagined your evening to go.

“What do you want me to say?”, he asks, holding his hands up in surrender as he feels like he’s being backed into a corner.

“The truth.”

The words hang between you, heavy and unresolved, but he doesn’t answer. His eyes practically beg you to drop it, to just let it go. But you’ve dealt with this in silence long enough.

“The truth is you’ve barely been home”, you help him, turning the stove down to the lowest setting because you feel like you won’t get around to eating for a while. You step closer to him but still give him enough space.

“You know that’s not fair”, Jaafar answers, shaking his head in disbelief that you’d hold this against him. His dream.

“Is it fair to leave me waiting for you every single night?”, you counter and he immediately presses his lips together, his dimples appearing for all the wrong reasons. There are a lot of things that didn’t fit into his daily schedule these past few weeks and unfortunately you were one of them. “Is it fair that the only time I see you anymore is when you crawl into bed in the middle of the night? Or when you give me a quick kiss before leaving again? I won’t even start with the last time you actually touched me.”

“Bab-”

“No”, your voice cracks but you don’t want to back down now that you’ve gone this far already. Might as well let all the frustration from the past few weeks out all at once. “No, because I miss you.”

His expression softens for a second at those words, the sharp edges of his frustration easing slightly.

“I miss us”, you add, your voice wavering as your eyes start to tear up. Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, you can see it in the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. Good. Maybe he needed to finally hear it.

“You used to ask me to come to set. You used to call me during breaks. You used to be happy when you came home and saw me”, you tell him, anger and hurt bleeding through your voice. “And now? Now I feel like I’m living with a ghost.”

His eyes drop. You desperately want him to talk to you the same way you are talking to him right now, angry, furious. But he doesn’t, it’s not who he is. His calm, gentle presence makes all of it even more frustrating.

“That’s not true”, he replies, looking back up at you and you can only huff out a humourless laugh.

“Alright. Then tell me: When was the last time we spent an evening together?”

He swallows thickly. He can’t. Because he doesn’t know and the silence speaks for him.

“Exactly”, you laugh bitterly.

“I’m doing this for my career. I’m doing this for our future, for us. It’s my dream”, he retorts, sounding hurt as he gestures vaguely between you, frustration rising in his voice. It’s obvious what he is telling you: it’s his apartment, he’s paying for everything for the both of you when you clearly told him he didn’t need to. He just loves spoiling you because he can. He’s the reason you got your new job through his connections. Yet he doesn’t understand the problem at hand. It’s not about him not being allowed to follow his dream and thus enabling you to live yours. You want it for him more than anything. Hell, if it were up to you, he’d already have five Oscars, ten record deals and a star on the Walk of Fame. But right now, he simply cannot grasp what the issue is. He’s not hearing you.

“And I’m trying to support you in every way I can!”, you raise your voice, but it comes out pleading rather than angry. “I’m so, so proud of you, baby. I’ve been proud of you since day one.”

“Then why does it sound like you’re attacking me?”

The question isn’t angry, but wounded.

“Because you’re disappearing!”, you cry, clasping your hands together as if you’re praying for him to finally understand. He just stands there, frozen.

He knows it’s true.

“Do you know how bad it’s gotten?”, you ask, your voice trembling with disbelief. “Your mother calls me asking where you are because she can’t get a hold of you. Your own brother asks me if I’ve seen you lately because apparently nobody knows where you are unless you are on set.”

It’s not just your voice that’s trembling now, adrenaline courses through every vein, your heart beating too fast, too painfully.

“And the worst part is that I don’t have an answer for them”, you admit, frustrated. “I’m your girlfriend, Jaafar. I should know where you are, how you’re doing, whether you’ve eaten or slept. But I don’t anymore. Instead, I’m finding things out from other people because you’re never here and when you are, you’re already halfway out the door again. I found out you hurt your ankle from Antoine.”

Only know do you notice how he slowly withdrew into himself during your outburst. There’s no anger on his side, no pushback. For a second, all you can see is how small he looks, like a boy being scolded when all he’s done is try his best and still somehow fall short. The guilt hits you immediately.

You want to take it all back. Wrap your arms around him. Tell him you didn’t mean it like that. That everything will be fine. You hate fighting with him like this. There has never really been a reason before, not like this. Just small misunderstandings, easily fixed. This is different.

And worse still, he isn’t fighting back. He’s just taking it. Like he believes he deserves it.

He has been neglecting you and basically everyone else in his life, he knows that. And he loathes himself for this. There’s nothing worse than seeing how his selfish behaviour has driven you to this point, knowing he is the sole reason your beautiful eyes are filled with tears right now.

He deserves this and so much worse.

You look at him properly now, really look at him. His cheeks look hollow, the shirt he’s wearing loosely hanging from his frame. His arms look thin, his wrists even thinner. Suddenly, all of your anger is replaced by concern.

“How much have you eaten today?”, you ask with a sudden urgency in your voice. The second he hears your question, he shuts down and looks away.

“Don’t”, he whispers and brushes past you, heading out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Jaafar”, you follow him, your voice equally quiet now, fragile, as you watch his frame in front of the big windows looking over Los Angeles. “How much?”

You take slow, tentative steps towards him, like you’re approaching something you’re scared might break. When you reach his side, he won’t look at you. But you see the shine in his eyes he’s trying to hide anyway.

“Tell me”, you say gently.

“Breakfast”, Jaafar shrugs, not daring to look your direction because he’s scared of what he’ll find there.

“What?”, you blink and the room feels like it’s spinning beneath your feet, your voice echoing through the apartment. “That’s it?”

You need a moment to digest this information. The words don’t fully register at first. Like your mind is refusing to accept them, wanting to save you from the reality of what it means. When the realization finally sinks in, it comes all at once and you don’t know what emotion to feel anymore.

“Oh my God.”

Shock. Anger. Fear. Heartbreak. Helplessness.

“That’s all you’ve eaten today?”, you repeat slowly, almost to yourself, as if saying it out loud might make it less real. “Baby.. it’s almost midnight.”

“I’m fine”, he croaks, not wanting to argue about this and your chest tightens.

“No, you’re not!”, you say, horrified, unable to believe what you are hearing. If you didn’t know better, you’d think your voice, suddenly louder again, made him flinch. “You are literally starving yourself.”

“I’m not starving myself”, he argues immediately, as if the idea itself is ridiculous. As if he would never let it get that far.

“You just admitted you only had breakfast and I know you”, you tell him, suddenly overwhelmed by the situation and not knowing what to do with your emotions. “You don’t even eat much for breakfast, Jaafar.”

“I was busy, okay? Didn’t have the time.” His voice sounds final, like he’s trying to close the conversation before it can go any further.

It has to go further, though. Because the way he looks, too thin, too tired, too worn down, tells a completely different story. This isn’t one missed meal. This is something that has been going on for much longer and you didn’t notice. You couldn’t because he wasn’t there.

“Busy people still eat!”, you almost shout now, but you don’t even know who you’re directing your anger at. Because it doesn’t feel like there’s anyone left to aim it at. What’s left is fear.

For him. For what he’s doing to himself. For how long he’s been doing it without telling you.

You open your mouth to say something else, but he beats you to it.

“I’m not having this conversation right now”, he exhales through his nose, jaw tightening. “You wouldn’t understand.”

You quite literally can feel your heart break in that second, his words slicing through it and cutting it in half. But you are not ready to give this up yet. You love him too much.

“Then explain it to me”, you beg, hurt lacing your voice as it cracks at the end. “Please.”

His head snaps toward you. Your sad, wounded eyes meet directly. He hates the tear that’s clinging to your lashes, the hurt written all over your face. He drags a hand through his curls and lowers his head for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as if that helps him come up with what to say next before finally turning to face you fully. Even after losing so much weight, he still towers over you, shoulders broad.

“You think this is easy?”, he asks, not waiting for your answer even though you want to tell him that you never said that. “They compare every movement. Every expression. Every second I’m on that screen people are going to compare me to Michael.”

His eyes fly up helplessly, his voice full of frustration directed at you, but mostly at himself.

“They expect perfection. I expect perfection”, he finally admits and pauses once he revealed the truth. The thing that has been eating him alive. “I watch the footage and all I see are mistakes.”

“Jaafar-”

“I don’t look right. He did it so effortlessly and I just don’t move right. Something’s always off”, his voice cracks again, his hands slowly falling to his sides as he looks completely and utterly defeated. “I’m not there yet and I don’t know if I ever will be.”

If your heart didn’t already crack, it sure as hell would now. There’s no air left in your lungs. The worst of it all is that he believes it. He believes every word he just said and you don’t know what to do, how to convince him otherwise. He’s spent so long convincing himself he’s falling short that he doesn’t even question it anymore.

“The jacket doesn’t fit right”, he continues and when he sees your confused expression, elaborates. “The 1984 Grammy jacket. I need to shed more pounds.”

“You’ve already lost enough weight!”, you immediately chime in and desperately search his eyes for any hint that he doesn’t mean this, that he’s joking. But all you find is conviction.

“It’s not enough”, he sighs, his jaw clenched, hands settling on his hips as his gaze travels down his own body as if he’s personally offended by it. The look on his face breaks your heart. It’s pure criticism. The same man who spent years telling you how beautiful you were on your worst days. The same man who kissed every insecurity you’ve ever had. The same man now stands in front of you, unable to show himself even a fraction of that kindness. You wish, desperately, that he could see himself through your eyes. Just once.

Then he’d see the man you see. The man you love. Every smile, every freckle, every mole. Every imperfect little thing that makes him exactly who he is and, on top of that, perfect to you.

“Look at what you’re doing to yourself, baby”, you whisper, reaching for his face. When he doesn’t back away, you cup his cheek gently, rubbing your thumb over his skin. The moment he meets your eyes, you see it again. The fear, the pressure, the exhaustion. He wants to prove himself so bad, prove to everyone that he deserves this role. There’s so much desperation to be good enough. Good enough to honor Michael.

A tear slips down his cheek and you catch it with your thumb.

“I don’t care if the jacket fits”, you say softly, tears burning behind your own eyes. “All I care about is whether you’re okay.”

His face softens as he leans into your touch ever so slightly, one of his hands coming up to cover yours, pressing it closer against his warm cheek. He kisses the inside of your palm, listening to your words attentively but averting his eyes once more.

“You don’t eat. You don’t sleep. You don’t take time for yourself. You barely come home”, you continue, your voice trembling. It doesn’t sound like an accusation anymore. Now it’s only concern. Pure, desperate concern. “You’re chasing perfection, baby. And I think somewhere along the way, you started believing that everything you already are isn’t enough.”

His throat bops, fighting the urge to burst into tears completely. He’s holding onto you like a lifeline.

“Please don’t hate yourself for all the amazing things you’ve been doing. For the amazing man you are”, you whisper, brushing away another tear. “You’re losing sight of what makes you you, of your qualities that were there long before filming.”

Jaafar nods weakly, more tears running down his face now. He doesn’t want to admit it, but this is exactly what he’s been needing to hear. No criticism, just love.

Someone reminding him that he exists outside of the role. That he is enough.

That he does not need to become his uncle to be loved and admired.

“I know this means everything to you”, you continue and his fingers tighten around your hand on his cheek, desperately holding on. “But I need you to understand something.”

That makes him look at you and the love he finds in your eyes nearly breaks him all over again.

After everything he’s done – missed dates, broken promises, the loneliness he’d left you with – you are still standing here, trying to save him. Jaafar doesn’t understand how your heart can be so gentle. How you can take your own pain, which he caused, and somehow turn it into comfort for him. You bring your other hand up now, cupping his face between both palms, forcing him to hold your gaze because you need these words to reach him.

“If you destroy yourself trying to become Michael..”, you sob, a tear sliding down your cheek. “I’m going to lose Jaafar. And I don’t think I could ever forgive you for that.”

Silence. Neither of you moves, the words hanging between you. The city outside glitters, but your attention is solely on each other.

Then Jaafar’s face crumples entirely, the last of his walls he’d been holding up finally caving in. He shatters as he suddenly realizes that you weren’t angry because of the dinner. You were terrified because you were watching the man you love so dearly disappear right in front of you.

“I’m sorry”, his voice is barely above a whisper as he leans forward and you wrap your arms around him without a second thought. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You immediately shake your head against him, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he almost squeezes the air out of you. But you’d gladly let him if it meant holding him together.

“No”, you tell him, steady and firm. “No, don’t you dare apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But-”

“All you’ve done is try your best”, you say softly, rubbing a hand over his back. “Maybe you’ve forgotten to take care of yourself. Maybe you’ve shut me out without realizing it. Maybe that hurt me and made me angry. But you don’t need to apologize for being overwhelmed. Never.”

He hums softly at your words, loosening his grip to straighten and place his chin onto your head. You bury your face against his chest, his heartbeat beneath your ear as he sways you slightly. For the first time in weeks, he lets himself stop and breathe, enjoying the feeling of your arms around him. The quiet certainty that he doesn’t have to earn your love. He already has it.

When you finally pull back after a whole lot more sobs, both of you are a mess. Red eyes, wet cheeks, sniffles all around. Either way, Jaafar looks at you like you are his entire world and somehow a tiny smile appears on his face. You laugh through your tears.

“There he is”, you smile and his only grows.

“I love you. More than anything”, he confesses and the kiss he gives you this time isn’t rushed. It’s slow, gentle, romantic. His hands cradle your face as if you’re something precious. You kiss him back, hoping he can feel all the love and affection you have for him that maybe you weren’t able to convey into words.

“I love you too”, you reply when you finally separate, your foreheads pressed together. “And now you’re going to sit down and eat the dinner I spent hours making.”

A sheepish look crosses his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t even think about complaining that it’s probably cold by now”, you laugh, intertwining your hands as the two of you make your way back toward the kitchen, his smile growing.

Jaafar can’t believe how he ever deserved someone like you.  

The candles have nearly burned out completely. The pasta definitely needs reheating. The wine has been sitting open for hours. But none of it matters now. For the first time in weeks, Jaafar isn’t rushing off somewhere else. He’s here, with you.

Michael 2 has finally been released in theaters and the press tour is just really starting to pick up. The last few days have been packed with red carpet appearances, interviews, photo shoots, morning shows, even more interviews. Just yesterday, you had an entire day dedicated solely to interviews, which you've never done before, especially not so many in a row.

You love every second of it. After all, this is what you have always dreamed of; a radiant, rising star on the path to success. Little you would be incredibly proud, and you, in turn, are proud that you were able to make that little girl's dreams come true and that you are well on your way to becoming something far greater than you ever dared to dream.

One reason you love all of this so much is definitely your cast members. Every interview allows you to get to know them anew and from a different side, even though you saw each other daily for months. Your face hurt from all the grinning and laughing during interviews yesterday when you had to collectively decide on your favourite Michael Jackson song. Colman, Nia, Juliano and especially Jaafar make this whole experience to what it is.

The fact that sparks are flying between you and Jaafar could potentially also be a reason why you're enjoying it so much.

Officially, you are co-stars. You are not in a relationship, but the numerous dates you've already been on (which have garnered considerable interest from the press) speak for themselves. Unofficially, you are more than just co-stars, yet neither of you is ready to take things public, especially not during such a stressful time. However, the feelings you harbour for one another are rather difficult to conceal, which is why rumours have already begun to circulate.

And the fact that you are playing none other than Lisa Marie Presley in the second installment of this global blockbuster certainly doesn't help to quell those rumours; if anything, it only fuels them. And the public hasn't even really seen your scenes together yet.

The sparks are burning hot, on and off screen.

You catch yourself looking at him, staring a little too long for your own good. There were several moments already when you thought to yourself that the press was going to have an absolute field day with it. Somehow, you get the feeling that this interview isn't going to help hide the obvious tension between the two of you. After all, it's the first interview featuring just you and Jaafar. Colman and Nia will be interviewed later on.

Speaking of which, as soon as you enter the room, the producer approaches you both with a smile and greets you.

"We're so glad you're here", she says and begins to explain the interview's format though you don't really need the explanation since you've watched just about every single one of them.

"We're going to ask you some of the internet's most burning questions", she explains and you look over at Jaafar beside you, who nods shyly and smiles back. You know that expression all too well, he is simultaneously nervous and excited. Even though he is already accustomed to it from the first film, it's still thrilling every single time.

Even more thrilling when you're the one at his side and he has to stop himself from grabbing your hand or looking at you for too long.

The producer motions for you to take a seat on the two chairs positioned in front of a white background. Jaafar lets you choose and then sits on the chair to your right.

"This is so exciting!", you say in awe, looking around with interest as you try to catch a quick glimpse of the familiar boards.

Jaafar, on his part, only has eyes for you, wearing that gentle smile on his lips that always makes you melt. "What?", you ask softly, smiling, doing your best not to blush.

"Nothing. It's just so sweet how excited you are", he whispers, resting his arm on the armrest in such a way that your hands brush against each other in the space between you. Subtly, he hooks his little finger around yours, a gesture that makes you grin.

When the producer suddenly announces that they are ready to begin, you sit up straight as if struck and let go of Jaafar’s finger. However, the producer’s gaze along with her knowing smile tells you that she definitely saw it. You glance down at yourself and smooth out your clothes, ensuring everything is in place for the interview. A man steps in front of the cameras, holding a clapperboard, and snaps it shut. The sound is music to your ears; for both you and Jaafar, it serves as a cue to slip into your professional roles as actors.

"Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N", you wave at the camera and smile sweetly.

"I'm Jaafar Jackson", he introduces himself, also waving to an invisible audience behind the camera.

"And today we're going to do the Wired Autocomplete Interview!", you both say in unison and not a second later, Jaafar is already handed the first board.

"What is Jaafar Jackson?", he reads out the search bar at the top and you can clearly see that he's not yet sure what to think about this interview. It's definitely different from the ones you've done before and he doesn't know what to expect.

"Yeah, what even is Jaafar Jackson?", you giggle teasingly, looking directly into the camera. Jaafar joins in your giggling and then reveals the first question by peeling off the white strip, holding the board between the two of you so you can both see it.

"What is Jaafar Jackson known for?", he reads out, obviously surprised these Google searches aren't as messy as he thought. "I'd say I'm best known for my portrayal of my uncle, Michael Jackson, in his biopic."

"Which is still insane when you say it out loud like that!", you laugh, waiting eagerly for him to reveal the next question.

"What is.. Jaafar Jackson's relationship with Michael Jackson?", he laughs a bit as he basically just answered that question already. "I'm Michael's nephew. My father, Jermaine, is one of his brothers."

"Did you spend a lot of time with him?", the producer suddenly asks from behind the camera as Jaafar was about to move onto the next question. He lowers the board onto his lap, lightly tapping on it with one hand while he puts the other one on his jaw in deep thinking.

"Not as much as I would've liked, to be honest. He was the King of Pop and even though he always took time for his family, it still wasn't a lot", Jaafar starts to explain, his gaze switching between the camera and his lap. "I remember how much fun we always had at Neverland. It was basically a paradies for kids and he would always play hide and seek with all of us. It's a very fond memory I have of him. Oh, and I loved watching him dance! I'd immediately go and try the moves myself."

You coo in response. Of course he has already had to answer countless questions like this. That is the price of portraying his uncle, yet you still hope that he will also get to answer questions about himself as Jaafar and not just those related to his surname. Nevertheless, these questions make perfect sense. Naturally, people want to know everything about the new talent from the Jackson family. And, after all, you are here to promote your film, so he is happy to answer these questions. Especially when faced with questions like these, you notice just how much all of this means to him.

You see the producer nod her head and write something down but not before motioning for Jaafar to continue. The next few questions are about his age, height and zodiac sign.

"What's.. Jaafar Jackson's workout routine?", he reads out next, immediately feeling a little shy about the fact that someone would even like to know about that.

"Oh, do tell! I'd love to know that one too", you tell him excitedly, leaning over to bat your lashes at him.

"You'd have to ask my personal trainer who I worked with for both parts. I just do what he tells me to do", Jaafar answers with a shy smile, preferring to look at you rather than speaking into the camera. You would be lying if you said you haven't already seen all the workout videos his personal trainer posted on his social media accounts.

"What I can say is that it was extremely exhausting. But only through such an intense workout do you stand any chance of even remotely learning Michael's dance skills", he explains further and you nod in approval. You know how hard he has been working for both films and there were days during filming when he wanted to give up. He would come into your trailer or take you somewhere quiet when you were watching him perform and you would comfort him to the best of your abilities. On some days, your words were all it took; on others, however, even those weren't enough. At the end of the day, much like his uncle, he is a perfectionist.

"I promise you will not be disappointed once you go see the movie!", you cheerfully say, wanting the audience to really know how much work and effort was put into all of it. Jaafar smiles at you, his eyes radiating so much gratitude before he reveals another question.

"What is Jaafar Jackson thinking? What am I thinking?"

"Yes, what's on your mind right now?", you help him, leaning back slightly in your seat, having realized that you were sitting quite close to him. You cross your legs so that you can tap your foot.

"Mhm, that I'm having a good time doing this interview and I'm glad to be here with my beautiful co-star", Jaafar says with a slight smirk on his lips. Yeah, so this interview is certainly not going to help dispel the rumours. It also doesn't help that the last question on this board is asking about his relationship status.

"I'm single", he answers truthfully after reading the question aloud. You are glad that he doesn't have to lie about it, which he's terrible at. Truly terrible. Every lie is written across his face before he even opens his mouth. Either way, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

It's the final question on his board and Jaafar glances around the set helplessly once he's done, still holding it out in front of him like someone is supposed to come collect it.

"You gotta throw it!", you chime in immediately. That earns you a deeply confused look.

"What?", he lets out a short laugh, clutching the board tighter. "I’m not throwing it."

“Yes, you are. That's part of the interview!” Jaafar looks around the studio like you've completely lost your mind. You laugh, reaching over and snatching the board from his hands before he can protest.

"I'm so sorry", you say directly to the camera with mock sincerity. "He's simply too chronically offline for this."

"I am not-"

Before he can defend himself, you fling the board dramatically across the set. Both of you watch as it clatters to the floor.

You turn back to him, trying - and failing - not to laugh as you see his jaw slightly dropping.

"See? The people love it", you mention, extending your arms to point to all the people, which, in this case, are the staff members that actually don't bat an eye on what you just did. "Me. I'm also people."

One of the crew members quickly hands you the next board, this one labeled 'what Y/N Y/L/N'. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jaafar pressing his hand over his mouth in a failed attempt to hide his grin, still far too amused by your dramatic board toss from seconds ago. His eyes crinkle as he shakes his head at you, clearly not over it.

He absolutrly loves doing interviews with you for that exact reason. Where he tends to be quiet, measured, and a little too aware of every camera pointed at him, you make everything feel lighter, easier. You pull him out of his shell without even really trying, turning his usual restraint into soft laughter and quiet confidence. You truly bring out the best of him.

"What is Y/N Y/L/N's age", you read out your first question after pulling the white sticker off. You playfully roll your eyes, clicking your tongue.

"How boring", you say, quickly answering it to get to the next, hopefully more interesting question.

"What is Y/N Y/L/N's favourite colour?", you read aloud next, fiddling with the peeled strip of tape between your fingers. You glance over at Jaafar. He's already looking at you, a soft, almost fond smile lingering on his face. "Do you know?"

His eyebrows lift slightly, clearly caught off guard that you're directing the question at him instead. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and he instinctively straightens in his seat.

"Of course I know that", he says, sounding almost offended that you'd even question him. He names your favorite colour without hesitation. Quickly, you fire back his favourite colour.

He points at you immediately. "Exactly."

A laugh slips from your lips as you turn toward the camera. "See? We could probably answer all of each other's questions at this point."

Jaafar lets out a quiet laugh beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he leans back in his chair. "That just shows how much time we spend together", he adds, still smiling his beautiful smile at you. "Filming a movie really brings people closer together."

Your lips twitch as you force yourself to keep a neutral expression. If only people knew how close.

Long nights on set that turned into longer conversations in his trailer. Quiet dinners after filming wrapped. His hand finding yours under tables. Stolen kisses far away from any flashlights. Close was certainly one way to put it.

"Next question!", you rip off the white strip a little too aggressively this time. The board nearly slips out of your hands.

Jaafar reacts instantly. "Here, let me hold that for you." He reaches out before you can fumble it completely, gesturing for the board. You hand it over with a shy laugh and he holds it in front of him so the camera can capture it. This gives you enough room to peel off the strips without struggling.

It's such a small gesture, but painfully domestic in a way that makes your stomach flip. You look at him and basically forget every coherent thought you've ever had.

He looks entirely too beautiful. His curls frame his face perfectly, his eyes warm and attentive as they flick between you and the card. Distractingly breathtaking. Dangerous, really.

"What music video is Y/N Y/L/N in?", he reads aloud after realizing you've gone suspiciously quiet. Your eyes snap back to the board. He's the one having to hold back a grin now.

"I was in 'I Feel It Coming' by The Weeknd", you answer quickly, hiding the sudden nervousness that took over you. "That was actually one of my first acting jobs."

You shrug lightly. "Acting is a bit generous though, really. I was mostly modeling."

That earns a quiet laugh from Jaafar.

"I was really young", you continue, settling back into a more professional tone. "And it's funny because back then, nobody ever asked me about it. No one recognized me and no one cared. Obviously, I mean The Weeknd was right there."

You glance at the board in Jaafar's hands, reaching for the next strip. "And now people are apparently digging through the internet and finding everything I've ever done."

"Naturally people want to know what you were doing before Michael", Jaafar nods in understanding, picking at the edge of the cardboard.

"Which is flattering", you admit. "And slightly terrifying." You peel off the next strip with far less aggression this time. Your eyes scan the question while you read out: "What movies has Y/N Y/L/N been in?"

"Ooh", Jaafar hums excitedly, his eyebrows lifting as he turns toward you. "That's a good question."

"Well, I was in Michael 2, obviously. Go watch it in theaters!", you add with an exaggerated promotional smile toward the camera, earning a laugh from the crew. "Before that, I did a lot of smaller projects. A few films like Do Revenge or Top Gun: Maverick, but they were mostly brief appearances, nothing huge. I literally was only in the background and maybe got to say one line."

You pause, mentally flipping through your résumé.

"Television is where I have a little more to offer, though. I had a recurring role on Grey's Anatomy for a few episodes and I also had smaller roles in Outer Banks and Daisy Jones & The Six. So maybe you've seen my face on there."

"So, this is your first lead role?", the producer speaks up from behind the camera.

You glance toward her, not being able to really see her because of all the bright lights, and nod. "Yes."

"How does that feel?"

"It feels like everything I've worked for", you admit honestly and feel a rush of emotion come over you. "It's what I've dreamed about for years."

Quietly, you exhale and if you didn't know any better, you'd swear Jaafar almost reaches for your hand, his body subtly shifting toward you before he seems to remember where you are. So instead, his hand curls tightly around the edge of the board and he offers you a small, grounding smile that somehow feels just as intimate.

"But it's also overwhelming sometimes. It's exhausting and there's definitely pressure that comes with suddenly having so many eyes on you. People start recognizing you overnight and your life changes really fast", you explain to the best of your ability, Jaafar nodding in quiet understanding.

He knows that feeling better than most. From the first Michael film alone, his entire world had shifted overnight. Sure, growing up as part of the Jackson family meant he was no stranger to public attention. But stepping into the spotlight himself, with the entire world suddenly watching him, was something else entirely and, additionally, he had such huge shoes to fill.

Fame had found both of you faster than either of you expected. And through all of it you had somehow become each other's safest place. Your anchors. The people you reached for when everything else felt too loud.

When you glance at him, he's already looking at you. And somehow, that steady look says everything neither of you can say out loud right now.

"I think people only see the glamorous side of achieving your dreams", Jaafar says thoughtfully. "They don't always see the pressure that comes with maintaining them or how isolating it can feel at times. But I think you've handled all of this with a lot of grace."

You blink at him, momentarily caught off guard as your chest tightens. God, he sounds so composed when he speaks like that, so intentional with every word. It's one of your favorite things about him.

How much you would like to kiss him right now. The fact that you can't is costing you a great deal of strength.

The silence that follows is brief, but warm until Jaafar breaks it with a small, almost teasing exhale.

"Alright", he says, tapping the edge of the board lightly. "Before we both get emotional on camera…"

"Next question", you laugh softly, grateful for the reset as you reach for the last strip. "What does Y/N Y/L/N love? What do I love? I love many things."

Unfortunately, saying Jaafar Jackson on camera doesn't feel like an option you're willing to risk today. So you settle for something safer.

"I love the cast of Michael", you say instead, smiling toward the camera. "I love how much fun we're having together."

Without missing a beat, you reach out and take the board from Jaafar, who had already been politely holding it out for you, and toss it backward over your shoulder. It lands somewhere off-camera with a satisfying thud. You clap your hands once, just as the crew steps in with the next board, this one for Jaafar again.

"Wait", you say quickly, reaching out before he can fully grab it. "I'll hold it for you, too." His fingers brush yours before he lets you have it, sending an electric tingle through your body.

"Jaafar Jackson", you read the search bar at the top, your tone slipping into something deliberately teasing. With a small, resigned shake of his head, he reveals the first question. It says 'What inspires Jaafar Jackson'.

He leans back slightly in his chair, thinking his answer through in his head for a moment.

"I think.. people who stay kind, no matter what they're going through. People who work hard even when nobody's watching", he states, his hand rubbing across his chin. "Music as well, of course. And my family. Always."

His eyes flick toward you for half a second and your heart makes a tiny jump that he looks at you specifically when he talks about family.

"Yeah, my family has been a very big inspiration for me as well as my co-stars", he finishes with a small smile and you nod in approval, waiting for him to reveal the next question.

"Jaafar Jackson.. favourite MJ song?", you read slowly, already letting out a small, dramatic huff before he even answers. "That's a tough one."

Jaafar immediately nods like he agrees with you. "Yeah, that one changes like.. every day."

"Every hour, even", you laugh.

"Favourite song, favourite song.. That's so difficult. Favourite music video would be easy, but song?", he murmurs.

"Your favourite music video is.. Smooth Criminal?", you guess and he immediately breaks into a bright smile.

"Hands down", he nods without hesitation. "What's your favourite song and music video?"

You pretend to think about it very seriously as if it's a life-or-death decision. "Favourite music video is definitely Thriller. It's iconic. The concept, the storytelling, the choreography.. everything. My favourite song has to be Dirty Diana."

With those words, you turn toward the cameras now, lowering your voice dramatically like you're sharing a secret meant only for them.

"If you weren't already convinced to go see Michael 2", you say, pointing straight at Jaafar for emphasis, "you need to go solely to see this man's amazing performance of that song specifically. You're going to lose your minds, I promise."

You're absolutely certain of it, because you definitely lost your mind the first time you saw it. You lost a bit of your mind at every take you saw recorded directly in front of you.

Jaafar lets out a small, shy laugh, ducking his head a little so the cameras can't capture the obvious red tint creeping onto his cheeks. He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, still slightly flustered, then looks back at the board in your hands.

"Right", he says, trying to regain composure. "My favourite song is probably Man in the Mirror. But that could change in a few hours."

"Solid choice", you nod in agreement, gesturing for him to move on to the next question.

"Jaafar Jackson..", he reads, peeling the white strip off. "Striped pant- Oh my god."

You immediately drop the board onto your lap, clapping your hands once as you burst into laughter. "Oh, finally! Finally, we're getting to the really good questions!"

Jaafar's head drops forward, shoulders shaking as he tries, and terribly fails, to keep it together. He mutters something that kind of sounds like 'Why is this here?', laughing into his hand.

You lean back in your chair, absolutely delighted. "No, no, this is important. The people want answers!"

"Okay", he says, rubbing his forehead, still smiling despite himself. "So.. the performance of Human Nature in the first Michael was honestly one of the most exciting things to film. Because it's such an iconic moment in his career and trying to capture the energy of it was a challenge in the best way."

You're still grinning at him, clearly enjoying how seriously he's trying to recover.

"And the striped pants", he adds, a little more shyly, glancing down for a second, playing with one of the rings on his fingers. "They’re definitely part of that. Actually, my uncle didn't even like them that much and gave them to my uncle Randy. We thought, however, that it's a cool look for the scene so we stuck with it. But it's really about the movement and the emotion of the performance."

"You are far too sweet for this world", you beam at him, your eyes sparkling as you desperately try to shove the mental image of him in those striped pants out of your head.

Lives were changed by that performance back then. And, quite frankly, lives were changed again when you watched him recreate it.

"We do need to bring back the pants though", you add, winking dramatically at the camera. Jaafar, on the other hand, just groans quietly beside you, dragging a hand down his face as the crew laughs. You lean away as he reaches for the next strip, mostly to remove yourself from the scene of your own crimes. Then, deciding you've embarrassed him enough for one day, you scoot back closer until your shoulder brushes his again, silently letting him know you're done tormenting him.

"What is next for Jaafar Jackson?", he reads, his foot tapping lightly against the floor as he thinks about his answer. "I don’t know how much I'm allowed to say. But what I can say is that I definitely plan on continuing acting.”

His voice softens slightly. "I really love it. It challenges me in ways I didn't expect, bringing out new sides of me, and I feel very grateful that people have connected with my work enough for me to keep doing it."

Your heart practically swells in your chest. You know far more than the public does: the auditions he left feeling unsure about, the roles he narrowly missed, the callbacks that kept him awake at night, and the ones that changed everything. His career is only beginning to accelerate and once they'll see him as a literal Disney prince on the big screen? It's over. For all of you.

You couldn't be prouder.

"Can't wait!", you say cheerfully, unable to hide your excitement. He glances at you with a knowing smile, already peeling off the final strip on the board. It reads 'Jaafar Jackson perfect'.

There's complete silence for a second, Jaafar obviously at a loss for words. Meanwhile, you blink at the board before looking at him like the answer is painfully obvious.

"I mean", you start slowly, turning toward the camera. "Have you looked at him?"

The entire crew behind the camera has to conceal their laughter. Jaafar immediately folds in on himself, covering half his face with his hand as his shoulders shake.

"No, genuinely", you continue, now pointing between him and the board. "Why are you googling that? The answer is right here."

Jaafar lets out a strangled laugh, wanting nothing more than to shut you up but also give you the biggest hug at the same time. Before anyone can protest, you snatch the board from his hands.

"And because I refuse to hear any opposing opinions-", you launch it dramatically across the room. It once again lands with a loud thud somewhere off-camera. Proudly, you dust off your hands. Jaafar stares at you like he doesn't know whether to laugh harder or hide under his chair. Or kiss you right then and there.

At this point with how the interview is going so far, you two will never beat the allegations anyway. So why should he even try to hide it any further? Kissing you in front of rolling cameras probably isn't all that smart and, above all, not very professional, even though he would really, really love to. It will just have to wait until later. Until you're alone and have a quiet moment to yourselves.

A staff member quickly steps in with the next board. This time, they hand it directly to Jaafar before you can weaponize it.

"This is the last one for the interview", the producer announces from behind the camera. "We still have to get Colman Domingo and Nia Long in here too."

"Oh, right", you laugh. "Wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting because we keep oversharing."

"We?", Jaafar repeats. You ignore him.

"Let's see what else people want to know about me", you sigh, straightening in your seat as you peel off the next strip. You reveal the question and read it aloud: "Who does Y/N Y/L/N want to act with?"

Jaafar's brows lift in interest, balancing the board on his knee.

"Ooh, I would love to work with Zendaya", you say first. "I think she's insanely talented. Or Florence Pugh, too! There's so many I'd love to work with."

"Those are good ones", Jaafar smiles beside you. He vividly remembers how excited you were when you met Zendaya. You wouldn't stop talking about her for days. He almost got jealous.

"And, this might be a very obvious answer considering our current situation, but working with Jaafar and also Colman and Nia has been incredible", you add quickly. "They make everyone around them better."

You grin before immediately turning the question around. "What about you?"

Jaafar exhales through a smile, already thinking as he leans forward, elbows on his knees but still in frame as he spins the board in his hands.

"I'd love to work with Morgan Freeman someday. Even though that probably sounds very unrealistic", he finally answers. "I admire how much presence he has on screen. Angela Bassett is also a strong contender. She's incredible."

"She is incredible", you agree in an instant and peel off the next strip, Jaafar angles the board slightly so you can read it more comfortably. "Who is Y/N Y/L/N in Michael 2? I play none other than Lisa Marie Presley."

Jaafar nods beside you. "And she's amazing in it, by the way."

You glance at him with a smile, patting his knee. "I paid him to say this, thank you."

"It's true", Jaafar says into the camera with so much conviction that your heart makes a jump. "You impersonate her really well."

"It was honestly a little intimidating at first. I really wanted to approach her with as much care and respect as possible", you tear your gaze away from Jaafar and realize that your hand has remained resting on his knee, so you inconspicuously pull it back.

"How did you get into the role?", the producers speaks up from behind the cameras.

"I watched interviews, read articles, studied her mannerisms by basically viewing any existing footage there is", you explain, glad to be able to share this journey. "And I was actually very lucky because I briefly worked with Riley Keough on Daisy Jones & The Six."

Jaafar leans back, turning toward you to give you his full attention even though he already knows all of this.

He absolutely loves the way you carry yourself. You are so self-assured in front of the cameras, literally beaming. But he also knows your other sides, all those facets that the public never sees: how shy you become when caught off guard, or how incredibly patient you are. Filming wasn't always easy, yet even when things between you blossomed into something more than mere friendship, you never pressured him. You waited, expecting nothing from him, until he was ready to give it of his own accord. You complement him precisely where his weaknesses lie. And he does the exact same for you.

"So I got to ask her a little bit about her mom", you explain, noticing how mesmerized Jaafar looks at you right now. "Not in an invasive way or anything. But hearing small personal things about how she carried herself or how people close to her remembered her was actually really helpful."

"That's really special", Jaafar says softly, but you're honestly not sure what or who he means with that.

"It was", you agree. "It made the whole thing feel a lot more human to me. I'll forever be thankful for this opportunity."

Jaafar nods, knowing perfectly well how it feels. The two of you are carrying a similar weight by portraying people who are no longer here to speak for themselves, balancing respect with authenticity while knowing the world will inevitably dissect every little detail. In the end, it's not up to you to decide whether you managed to do them justice.

"Who is Y/N Y/L/N's celebrity crush?", you read aloud next, absentmindedly crumpling the peeled strip between your fingers. Honestly, you're a little surprised people care about things like that. Then again, you understand it perfectly. Not too long ago, you were on the other side of this, searching up interviews of your favorite actors and wanting to know every insignificant detail about them.

"Currently?", you say thoughtfully. "I'd probably say Pedro Pascal." You shrug with a laugh. "Which is basically the entire world's answer at this point."

Jaafar slightly snorts at that and a staff member across the room can't hold back a chuckle. You're just too damn likeable.

"And as a child, I had the biggest crush on Robert Pattinson", you continue. "Like.. devastatingly bad. Peak Twilight era."

"Of course", Jaafar murmurs under his breath. You don't miss the way he shifts slightly in his chair while you explain yourself further, trying very hard to maintain his calm interview composure while you casually discuss other men.

Jaafar is very far away from being the jealous type. He's not jealous. Not really. At least not enough for anyone else to notice. But you do.

You notice the tiny flicker of jealousy he's trying so hard to disguise right now. The way he suddenly becomes very interested in the board resting in his lap, flipping it over once, then again, glancing around the room like maybe concentrating on literally anything else will stop him from hearing you praise Robert Pattinson.

It's ridiculously endearing.

"And Jaafar Jackson, of course!", you add sweetly, fully aware of what you're doing. His reaction is immediate. His eyes widen ever so slightly as he looks at you like you've genuinely lost your mind.

You bite back a grin as you reach over to place a hand on his biceps, attempting to tug him a little closer to you but he's not having it.

"Next question", he says quickly, cutting you off before you can make things worse for the both of you.

Trying not to smile too obviously, you let him move on while he peels off the next strip. A grin slowly pulls at the corner of his mouth as he reads the card silently to himself for an extra second, entirely on purpose.

"Jaafar", you warn.

He finally reads it aloud: "Y/N Y/L/N married?"

"No ring yet", you cheerfully say, immediately showing your left hand toward the camera. There are rings on your fingers, just none sitting on the finger everyone is currently searching for. Your answer is innocent, but it leaves just enough room for interpretation because does that mean you are in a relationship? Your media trainer is either going to love or hate you for this.

Beside you, Jaafar presses his lips together, very clearly trying not to react too much to your wording. He can't hide a little smirk though.

"Alright", you say brightly, reaching for the final strip. "Last question!"

But the second your fingers move toward it, Jaafar smoothly lifts the board farther away from you. You stare at him in disbelief and try to reach for it once more, but he extends his arm farther back with an annoyingly triumphant smile, teasing you. Clearly, this is his revenge for your teasing throughout the whole interview.

"Oh my God", you laugh under your breath. "You're impossible."

You continue to fight him for the board and lightly flick the tip of his nose with your fingertip, a fleeting little gesture so instinctive and affectionate that umistakably shows how close you are to each other. Closer than co-stars should be.

You can already picture the headlines this interview is going to create once it's released.

Barely holding back laughter now, he lowers the board again and gestures for you to continue.

"Thank you very much", you say pointedly, lightly shoving his shoulder as you take it from him. He barely moves, obviously far stronger than you, but he lets himself sway anyway.

"Y/N Y/L/N moonwalk", you read aloud before gasping theatrically. "Oh! So this is what the people yearn for. I understand now."

Before anyone can stop you, you jump up from your seat.

"You're lucky I wore sneakers today", you announce proudly. Jaafar is still sitting there watching you with the softest smile imaginable when you suddenly point at him.

"Come on, b—", you catch yourself at the last second. "Jaafar. You have to do it too."

His eyes widen immediately as he starts shaking his head.

"No."

"Yes!"

He hides his smile behind his hand, already laughing quietly. You know this about him by now. How shy he gets about things like this. He doesn't like showing off, no matter how naturally talented he is.

He literally played Michael Jackson, spent months mastering every movement and mannerism imaginable, and yet somehow still gets embarrassed doing a simple moonwalk in front of a camera. He knows he will do the moonwalk better than you so he doesn't want to expose you like that. Jackson genes.

As the two of you continue arguing back and forth, the cameraman quickly adjusts the angle to fit you both fully into frame.

Since you refuse to accept defeat, you grab Jaafar's hand and pull him up from his chair.

You look up at him, softly pressing his hand, and give a small, reassuring nod, one that silently says: It's fine. You'll be fine. We'll be fine.

"Please don't compare my moonwalk to his, though", you plead dramatically to the camera as you position yourself in the middle of the set. Then, with all the confidence in the world, you attempt your best moonwalk across the floor. It's not horrible - you made Jaafar teach you - but also not great.

"Your turn!", you say, turning to him expectantly, ignoring the applause from behind the cameras.

"There's too much pressure now", he complains with a smile, but steps forward anyway and casually does the perfect moonwalk. You could watch him do it all day long. It looks so smooth and the way he carries himself while doing it, with so much confidence, makes it even more attractive.

The crew in the room applauds him and so do you, jumping up and down in excitement. The second everyone reacts, Jaafar's demeanour changes back to his usual self and he ducks his head with a shy laugh, trying to wave it off.

"If you want to see more of these moves, then don't miss out on seeing Michael 2!", you announce, proud of the smooth transition you came up with on the spot.

"Thank you, WIRED, for inviting us. Michael 2 is now playing in theaters everywhere", Jaafar adds warmly, clasping his hands behind his back like he's seconds away from politely bowing.

With that, the interview is technically over. The crew has already started moving around the set, gathering equipment and talking amongst themselves. But then your eyes land on the abandoned board still resting on Jaafar's chair. Immediately, you grab it and hold it out toward him expectantly. The moment the crew notices what's happening, several people pause mid-conversation, not wanting to miss this interaction. The cameras, of course, are still rolling.

"You have to do it. At least this once!", you insist. Jaafar plants his hands on his hips, glancing back and forth between you and the board. His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek as he tries not to smile. He studies your expression for another second, clearly searching for even a tiny hint that you might let this go. Unfortunately for him, you look completely serious.

Eventually, he exhales through a laugh and takes the board from your hands. With all the natural gentleness Jaafar seems physically incapable of turning off, he tosses it into the air behind him. The board clatters harmlessly onto the floor. The second he does it, a ridiculously proud grin spreads across his face.

"You were right", he admits, laughing now. "This is fun."

Your own laughter only gets worse. "You're welcome", you say proudly, like you've personally changed his life for the better.

You have absolutely no idea whether any of this will actually make the final cut considering the interview officially ended at least thirty seconds ago. But maybe they will put it at the end anyway. This is definitely a monumental moment the public shouldn't miss.

Still grinning, you wave toward the cameras in farewell. "Bye!"

Jaafar joins in beside you with an amused shake of his head. "Bye, thank you."

That finally seems to signal the real end of filming. Almost immediately, the room bursts back into motion. Crew members weave around the set adjusting equipment while the studio lights dim slightly overhead.

The producer approaches the two of you with the expression of someone who knows they may have just struck gold.

"That was great!", she says warmly, shaking both your hands. "Seriously, thank you so much for taking the time."

You exchange a quick glance with Jaafar. This interview might have spiraled out of control and did nothing to fight the allegations about the two of you having a thing. Who knows how the remaining interviews with just Jaafar and you will go.

After how this one went you can guarantee for nothing.

You briefly speak with the producer. She compliments both Jaafar's and your's portrayal in the film as she's already seen it before excusing herself, needing to check that everything is ready for Colman and Nia.

Jaafar and you thank the other staff members, say your goodbyes, and leave the room. An assistant escorts you to a lounge where you can wait until your next interview with W begins.

The lounge features two vanity tables with brightly lit mirrors, though your makeup artists are nowhere to be seen to touch up your makeup. At the back of the room stands a couch, along with a table laden with various drinks and snacks.

The moment the door closes behind you, the noise from the studio fades into something muffled and distant. Only then do you realize how much adrenaline is still rushing through your body, your skin practically buzzing from the interview and everything that came with it.

You exhale dramatically and walk over to the table to grab two bottles of water. Jaafar follows behind you, hands in his pockets.

"Thanks", he smiles softly when you hand him one bottle. Without even thinking about it, he twists the cap open and passes the bottle back to you before taking the unopened one from your other hand instead.

The gesture is so automatic that it makes your chest ache a little. Always taking care of him. Always being taken care of in return.

His smile right now is the same as the one he wore during the interview, full of love and affection.

God, he's beautiful.

"You need to stop looking at me like that", you giggle, placing a hand against his chest to playfully push him away. He doesn't budge. Instead, he simply places his hand over yours while taking a sip of water, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Like what?", he asks innocently, knowing perfectly well what you mean. As if he hasn't been looking at you like that for months now.

"Like that", you say, pointing an accusatory finger at his face as you pull your hand from beneath his. "The internet is definitely going to think we're dating now."

"They already think that", he shrugs, placing the bottle back on the table.

"But we shouldn't give them even more fuel!", you tell him, sounding more like both of your managers than yourself and not at all convincing. Because the truth is, you couldn't care less if people figured it out. If anything, some reckless part of you wants them to. Wants everyone to know that he's yours and you're his, even if neither of you has officially said it out loud yet.

Jaafar lets out a soft laugh through his nose and leans back against the table behind him. "You called me your celebrity crush", he states matter-of-factly.

"You were sulking!", you shoot back, grinning tiredly up at him.

"I was not", he denies, tinged with shyness because he knows perfectly well that you caught him.

"You literally started fidgeting", you chuckle. That finally pulls another real laugh out of him.

"You almost called me babe", he says in return, quietly. Your entire body heats instantly, redness rising to your cheeks. Jaafar's smile widens just slightly.

"I did not."

"You did."

You hide your face in your hands immediately while he laughs softly. "I saved it though", you mumble through your fingers.

"Barely", Jaafar smiles, finding your sudden shyness adorable. When you finally peek back up at him, he's looking at you with so much fondness it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. Somehow in private, you suddenly switch roles. He becomes much more confident because he feels comfortable while you feel comfortable enough to show your soft side to him.

"Don't act like you were so subtle", you counter now, regaining your confidence which is really difficult when he looks at you like you hung the moon.

"Maybe I don't want it to be subtle anymore", he mumbles, his eyes flicking down to your lips for half a second, reaching for your hand, fitting it into his naturally. "I don't like having to pretend and hide in front of the cameras. I don't like having to think about where I stand or whether I can hold your hand. I'd much rather everyone knew you belong to me."

Your heart skips a beat.

"I mean, officially I don't", you tease, gently squeezing his hand.

"Well, would you like to?", he asks sincerely and doesn't avert his gaze, his big doe eyes looking at your very soul. His thumb brushes across your knuckles.

"Are you seriously asking me this in the back of some random lounge?", you laugh nervously, not expecting him to just say it out loud like that. You weren't prepared. But that's what you love about him - somehow he manages to catch you off guard and it thrills you.

"I'm not, I just want to know we're still on the same page", he states, scratching the back of his neck while his other hand is still holding yours in a firm grip. "Once they know, they are going to go crazy about it. Everything will be about our relationship and nothing else. They won't back up. I know how relentless they can be."

"I know. But I think we can handle it. Because at the end of the day, it's us against all of that. Not the other way around", you say with firm determination, and Jaafar lowers his head, shaking it once with a smile.

"Okay", is all he says, gently tugging on your hand. Before you know it, you're standing between his knees where he's perched against the edge of the table. Instinctively, one of his hands settles at your waist. Like he's been stopping himself from doing it all day. Your own hand, in turn, finds his jaw, his skin soft and warm beneath your fingers.

"You wouldn't believe how much I wanted to do this in there", he murmurs, smiling sweetly like you're his whole world. Your stomach flips. He laughs quietly before finally closing the remaining distance between you, gently kissing you.

Your free hand wanders to the collar of his shirt, clutching the fabric as he pulls you even closer against him, his hand firm against your waist. Your heart pounds in your chest and you are certain he can hear it. It only goes to show what he does to you. And the thrill intensifies since someone could burst in and catch you at any moment.

That would definitely not fight the rumours.

Jaafar’s kisses eventually begin to wander from your lips to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. A soft, breathless laugh escapes you. He can't get enough even though he had you all night.

"Jaafar", you warn, but he doesn't react. "You’re going to ruin my makeup."

He immediately pauses as soon as you ever so slightly pushed at his chest. You lean back just enough to look at him.

"Your makeup artist can fix it later", he smirks and before you can argue further, he steals another kiss. You smile against his lips and let him cherish you some more.

When voices suddenly echo from somewhere out in the hallway, both of you freeze at once. His hand drops from your waist like he burned himself. You take a hurried step backward while he straightens quickly.

No one comes in. The voices continue past the room until all that's left is the sound of your own slightly ragged breathing. For a moment, neither of you moves. Then you both burst out laughing at exactly the same time.

"This is getting ridiculous", you glance up at him, mesmerized by the way the light hits his soft skin from all the right angles. He's so beautiful it's unfair.

"I know", he nods softly, smoothing down the front of his shirt where your hands had wrinkled the fabric earlier.

"Maybe after all the premiere stuff", you start quietly, getting a bit closer to him again as your body is not physically able to stay away from him for long. "After things calm down a little, we can make it official."

Jaafar reaches for your hand again, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I like the sound of that", he admits with a soft expression on his face.

The smile that spreads across your face feels impossible to contain and Jaafar can't help but admire it.

"Can you imagine if somebody had walked in just now?", you murmur. "That would have been so awkward."

A grin pulls at Jaafar's lips. "Maybe."

"Maybe?", you raise an eyebrow.

"At least they wouldn't have to speculate anymore."

════════════════════════════

bonus:

youtube comments beneath the interview

headlines after the interview was released

With a slight roll of your eyes, you sigh and nod as you kick off your shoes and set them aside. Your nose and cheeks are red, even though you were outside for such a short amount of time. It hasn’t stopped snowing since last night, which means you’ll be having a white Christmas this year. Christmas at the Wheeler house is always a bit chaotic, and with everything that’s happened this year, especially in the last two months, it’s even messier. You hang your jacket back where it belongs and shake your head, a familiar frustration settling in as you walk past the living room and up the stairs because your father is once again in his favorite armchair watching TV. Meanwhile, your mom is drowning in work next door in the kitchen.

“Unbelievable”, you mutter under your breath and go up the stairs, stopping in front of Mike’s room. “Mike!”, you shout, knocking on his bedroom door. Once, twice. Several times in quick succession, until he finally opens the door and glares at you like you killed Santa.

“Mom’s asking if you’ve cleaned your room”, you tell him, looking over his head at his surprisingly tidy room.

“I did”, is Mike’s curt reply before he literally slams the door in your face.

“And you’re supposed to change for dinner!”, you shout once more, shocked by his sudden rudeness towards you. You know he’s going through a tough time right now, but he hasn’t told you anything about it. To be honest, you kind of miss the days when he used to come to you when something was bothering him; after all, you were his ‘favourite sister’.

A cacophony of sounds washes up from downstairs: music from the television, Holly crying, a vacuum cleaner hastily put to use at the last minute. Then the phone rings, loud and insistent.

“Y/N! It’s for you!”, Nancy shouts upstairs and you rush down the stairs as fast as you possibly can, grabbing the receiver. Your sister’s expression immediately tells you who’s on the other end of the line.

“Steve, hi”, you smile into the phone and send Nancy away with a hand gesture. She just shakes her head and laughs, whispering something to Holly on her arm to calm her down.

“Hi there, sweetheart. I’m calling because I wanted to hear your voice”, you hear his flirty voice greet you, making your heart flutter in an instant. One of the many things that has happened this year: Steve Harrington is your boyfriend. And even though you’ve only been dating for three months, you can’t imagine life without him anymore. He’s enriched your life in so many different ways.

“And because I miss you”, Steve says, and you can practically see his smile in front of you. “What are you up to today? Any chance we can see each other?”

His question surprises you a little, and you stop wrapping the phone cord around your finger, puzzled.

“Uhm, Steve, it’s Christmas Eve”, you mention, avoiding the angry glare from your mother, who can see you standing there from the kitchen. Her demeanor, however, clearly tells you to hurry up.

“.. today?”, Steve asks so quietly you can barely hear him. What you can make out, though, is how dejected he sounds.

“Wait, you forgot?”, you ask, surprised and a little worried, holding the receiver closer to your ear to block out all the other sounds in the house.

“Forgetting is a strong word.. But it’s difficult to remember when no one’s here to remind me”, he admits, his voice so sad that you just want to run to him and hug him. You’ve had many long conversations about his parents and his difficult relationship with them before. But for them to leave their son alone on Christmas? That’s shocking, even for them.

“I’m so sorry, babe. That’s awful!”, you say. Even though he always pretends to be tough, you know it hurts him deeply, which is why an idea starts to form in your mind. “Wait a second.”

You let the phone dangle from its cord and dash into the kitchen, only for your mother to thrust a dinner service into your arms, a silent reminder that you’re meant to set the table.

“Mom? Can Steve come and celebrate with us?”, you ask her nicely, and she looks at you as if you’ve lost your marbles. How could you possibly ask for somebody else to join when she’s already so busy?

“Dinner is in an hour!”, she says matter-of-factly, gently pushing you aside to get to the refrigerator.

“And?”

“And I already have enough to do as is, as you can probably tell. There are already enough of us tonight. He can come over tomorrow”, she suggests, slamming the refrigerator door closed a little too loudly.

“But mom! He has no one to celebrate Christmas with!”, you tell her truthfully. “Besides, Jonathan is allowed to come over later, and that was fine with you, too.”

“Well, Jonathan isn’t coming until after dinner, and he let us know early. On top of that, he and Joyce have been through a difficult time, it’s the least we can do”, she gives you a smile meant to be encouraging, but it isn’t. Not at all.

“That’s not fair!”, you yell, the words tearing out of you before you can stop them. The plates that were thrust into your arms make a loud noise as you angrily slam them onto the counter. The kitchen falls silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the noise from the TV in the living room.

Your mom freezes on the spot, turning to look at you – not quite annoyed, but also not too happy about your tone.

“I’m right here. There’s no need to yell at me”, she says quietly, grabbing a kitchen towel from the sink.

You swallow thickly, knowing full well that she doesn’t deserve your attitude right now. But when it comes to Steve, you just can’t help it. “I’m sorry”, you mumble, feeling a bit ashamed. “I just.. Steve shouldn’t be alone tonight. You always say Christmas is about being together, about family. And he doesn’t have that.”

She sighs at that, rubbing her temples while she leans on the counter. Only now do you notice how exhausted she looks and suddenly you feel really bad for not doing enough to help her and, on top of that, screaming at her. It feels like the weight of the entire year is visible on her every feature all of a sudden.

“I know that. I wanted tonight to be simple. Just once”, she explains slowly and her voice sounds extremely tired.

Your shoulders slump. “I promise I will help more. Steve won’t be any trouble.”

For a moment, a small, reluctant smile tugs at your mother’s lips before she pinches the bridge of her nose and then approaches you. “Fine. He can come over. But I’ll remind you of that promise”, she smiles, placing both hands on your upper arms in a comforting way.

“Really?”, you lighten up immediately, your heart jumping from joy. It only takes her to nod at you before you wrap your arms around her tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

She hugs you back briefly before pulling away. “Go tell him”, she says, throwing the kitchen towel over her shoulder. “We don’t want him to be late. And tell him to bring a thick sweater. It’s cold tonight.”

She does not need to tell you twice and you are already on your way back to the phone, teeming with excitement.

“Pack your things, Harrington. You’ll be celebrating Christmas at the Wheelers”, you enthusiastically tell him. For a moment, you think he’s hung up on you because you don’t get any immediate reaction. But then you hear him breathe, almost in relief, and you know that once he’s at your door, you will give him the tightest hug he ever experienced in his life.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“You have. But you could do it more often.”

════════════

There’s a knock at the door just as your mom pulls the roast from the oven. As soon as you hear the knock, you are already halfway down the hall.

When you open the door, Steve is standing on the porch, shoulders hunched against the cold, bundled up in a thick jacket and wool scarf that looks like it has seen a few winters already. His hair is messier than usual – as if he couldn’t wait to finally get out of his house -, cheeks and tip of the nose pink from the cold. Tucked under his arm is a neatly wrapped box, held a little awkwardly like he’s afraid he might drop it.

The second he spots you, he breaks into a wide grin. “Hey”, he says, a little breathless.

“Hi”, you answer, wrapping him in a tight, almost bone-crushing hug. He stiffens for a second, surprised, but quickly returns it before you step aside to let him in. A rush of cold brushes your ankles, but it’s quickly locked out again as the door closes behind him. The warmth hits Steve the second he crosses the threshold. He is greeted not only by the heat, but also by bright lights and the unmistakable smell of a proper Christmas dinner. One he hadn’t had in years.

“Come on in, dinner is ready!”, your mom shouts from the kitchen while you help Steve out of his coat, revealing a dark blue Christmas sweater adorned with reindeer and familiar festive patterns. You can’t help but find it adorable that he took the chance to wear it. The thought turns bittersweet, though – realizing how excited he must have been, how rare it was for him to have a reason to wear a sweater like this at all.

“Wow”, Steve murmurs while looking around in awe. “It smells.. really good.”

You giggle softly and hook your arm through his, guiding him toward the dining room. Everyone is already seated in their respective place, except for your mom and Nancy who are setting pots and pans onto the table, steam curling into the air as the dishes come straight from the oven.

Steve greets everyone politely, even offering your parents a firm handshake. This earns him a startled look from your dad, who scrambles to his feet from the far end of the table, clearly caught off guard. Hawkins isn’t a big town after all, and everyone knows everyone.

Mike is the only one who isn’t excited about Steve being here, but recently, he isn’t really excited about anything anymore.

“Thank you for letting me be here”, Steve says sincerely. “It really means a lot.”

You sit down together, close enough that your shoulders nearly touch. Under the table, his leg bounces restlessly, the movement betraying the nerves he’s trying so hard to hide. You place a hand on his thigh, grounding him, and he immediately stills. His much larger hand slides over yours, fingers curling around it in quiet gratitude.

Dinner is loud and warm and full in the best way. Plates are passed around, chairs scrape against the floor, and Steve keeps glancing around like he can’t quite believe he’s really there. He thanks your mom at least three times, eats like someone who hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in a while, and laughs easily when Holly pulls faces. You love watching him interact with your family, how naturally he fits in. Every so often, you just sit back and smile as he effortlessly gets Mike to laugh, actually laugh. The way Steve gestures around, grinning, makes it impossible to not feel the gratitude radiating from him.

After everyone’s bellies are filled, everyone helps clean the table, working together to wash the dishes as quickly as possible. Your dad pops a cassette into the player in the living room, and soon Elvis’ voice fills the house. At some point, your mom suggests games and while Mike wants to play D&D, you ultimately decide on Monopoly.

It’s a tough battle, but in the end, you come out on top, leaving Steve trailing by only a few points. You can’t resist teasing him, grinning triumphantly, and he responds by placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. The warmth of it all makes your cheeks heat up.

Later, as the energy mellows and laughter fades into comfortable quiet, the two of you collapse onto the sofa, your legs draped over Steve’s thighs. Jonathan had joined in some time during the second round of Monopoly, and the rest of your family has now gathered around the living room, too. Finally, it’s time to exchange gifts. You can’t contain your excitement as gift giving is one of your love languages.

All the siblings decided to gift your parents something together – a new eyeshadow palette for your mom, a new fancy golf glove for your dad – and you watch their delighted faces as they unwrap. But your heart races the most when it’s Steve’s turn.

You hand him his gift, trying to hide your excitement as he carefully pulls off the wrapping. Inside is a picture frame holding a snapshot from one of your first dates, the two of you caught mid-laughter. The frame itself is decorated with your little touches: quotes one of you often says, doodles, and stickers.

Steve freezes for a second, then looks up at you, eyes soft, and a small, almost incredulous smile spreads across his face. “I love this!”, he says happily, apparently not expecting to receive something so thoughtful after only a few months of dating.

When it is time for you to unwrap his gift, he seems a little nervous and you can’t help but find it adorable. The package feels unusually soft in your hands, and you soon find out why: inside hides a small teddy bear, its tiny paws clutching a red heart. It’s adorable and you thank Steve for it by kissing his cheek, knowing full well that this teddy bear will sleep at your side every night from now on.

“I have something else, but I need to get it from my car”, Steve announces, giving you no chance to answer. Before you can react, he grabs your hand and pulls you down the hallway toward the front door.

You don’t ask any questions and instead reach for your coat, but he stops you, gently taking both your hands in his. For a moment, he hesitates, a faint blush creeping up his neck. After gathering enough courage, he then reaches into his pocket.

When he pulls out a small sprig of mistletoe, your breath catches. You blink, then laugh softly. “Steve..”

“What?”, he says, holding it up with his signature grin, one strand of hair falling into his face, framing it beautifully in the dim light. “It’s tradition, right?”

“Peter? What are you doing here?”, you ask, surprised, taking the spoon out of your mouth, the one you were eating your ice cream with, and put it back in the small ice cream container in your hand.

Peter looks just as startled as you do, as if he has no idea why he’s even here. He stares at you, and you start wondering if there’s something on your face or if your hair looks strange when he finally answers you.

“You weren’t at school today and you didn’t reply to my messages, so I wanted to check in and see if you were okay”, he explains, sounding embarrassed, but you realize something else is really bothering him. When he can’t hold it back any longer, he bursts out: “What are those?!”

Perplexed, you look down at yourself and realize you’re wearing your new Spider-Man pajama pants. They are red and feature Spider-Man’s mask multiple times, but in the shape of a heart. Scattered throughout are small spiderwebs, bows, and hearts. Objectively speaking, the pants aren’t actually that ugly, especially when you consider some of the grotesque fan merchandise out there. Either way, they are pants Peter was never supposed to know about because you didn’t even buy them yourself. A friend of yours is a huge Spider-Man fan, but the pants didn’t fit her, so she gave them to you. And now you’re standing here in front of him wearing your own boyfriend’s merchandise like some crazy fangirl.

For Peter, however, this is clearly the best day of his life, judging by his expression.

“Where did you get those?”, Peter asks excitedly, following you inside because you’d rather escape this conversation as quickly as possible.

“They’re not mine. Well, they are now. But I didn’t buy them. My friend-”

“Is there more merch of me? I-I mean of me as in Spider-Man. Slippers? Plushies? Travel mugs?”, Peter interrupts your explanation, fidgeting as he is unable to stop staring at your pants. Even when you sit down on the sofa, Peter sitting down next to you, he can’t tear his gaze away. He even reaches for them, as if he wants to test what material they are made of.

“I don’t know. You should ask my friend. She’s a huge Spidey fan”, you wave him off, and in doing so, you’ve immediately hit a nerve.

“Oh, and you’re not?”

“Nah, not really. I think there are way cooler superheroes out there”, you smile innocently and can clearly see how Peter has to suppress a laugh at that. “Gotta support my local Brooklyn superhero. Love Captain America. Way cooler.”

“Sure, but are there pajama pants with his face on it?”, Peter asks challengingly, trying to remain as serious as possible about this.

“Probably”, you shrug and there’s a three second silence before you both burst into laughter.

Your stomach aches after a while from laughing so much, but you just can’t believe you’re sitting on the sofa with Spider-Man, wearing his merch. You already know you’ll never hear the end of this. You can’t wait until he tells Ned... At least now you know what to get him for his birthday.

Even though you haven’t bought any of his merch yourself, you know where to find some. In fact, you’re more surprised that Peter hasn’t heard about it yet, considering Spider-Man is everywhere and you can find at least one product with him on it in every corner shop.

“If you like the pants so much, you can have them”, you offer Peter, who has now pulled several sheets of paper out of his backpack, obviously worksheets he brought you from school.

“Nah I’m good. I like them better when you wear them anyway”, Peter winks at you and thus makes you blush immediately.

“I-I have to admit, they’re super comfy”, you giggle, taking a look at one of the worksheets to distract yourself from the warmth in your cheeks.

“Spider-Man products are, of course, made with the highest quality in mind, that goes without saying. I’ve heard Spider-Man himself is committed to ensuring that only the very best products reach the market”, Peter laughs, making you laugh too, before you playfully push him aside because he’s literally known about this merchandise for three minutes.

As you’re looking through the cassettes, you hear a rumble from the back of the store.

“One sec!”, a female voice calls shortly after. The next moment, a smiling face appears around the corner, but it immediately disappears again when Robin spots you.

“Hey, I’m looking for-”

“Could you give me another minute? I will.. I’ll be right back!”, she immediately brushes you off and backs away. As soon as she’s out of your sight, or at least she thinks she is, she starts running to the back of the shop, and you watch her in bewilderment. You don’t let that deter you, however, and continue looking around, the creepy cassette covers slightly intimidating you. You hear quick whispers, or rather whisper-yelling, and before you know it, Steve Harrington is standing in front of you. You flinch in shock, taking a step back.

“H-Hey”, he breathes out, looking like he doesn’t want to be here at all, as if someone had forced him to. He’s also out of breath, as if he’d just been through a fight, one strand of his hair out of place.

“Hi”, you reply, looking down at your feet. You didn’t know he worked here. If you had, you certainly wouldn’t have come here, because the blush spreading from your cheeks across your entire face is proof enough of how you feel about him. Family Video just opened recently, how could you have known he’d be working here?

For a moment, there’s a rather awkward silence between you because you simply don’t know what to say. You’ve never been very good at talking to people, especially when you don’t know them. Steve definitely falls into that category. Steve, the king of Hawkins High School, everybody’s favourite rich playboy with whom you’ll never have a chance. Which is why you’ve only ever watched him from afar in the cafeteria. Or when you had a class together. Or at one of his basketball games.

Meanwhile, he doesn’t even know who you are. And you wanted it to stay that way because you never planned on talking to him, ever.

“Really good choice you picked there!”, Steve continues the conversation, and you look at him confused, not quite understanding what he means. Until you realize that you’ve taken one of the VHS cassettes out and are still holding it in your hand. A man’s face is staring up at you, with ‘The Shining’ written underneath.

“Oh. Oh! Yeah. I mean, do you think so? I don’t know the movie, otherwise I wouldn’t be holding it right now”, you ramble, mentally slapping yourself for not being able to have a normal conversation.

“To be honest with you.. I haven’t seen it, no idea”, Steve laughs, embarrassed, and scratches the back of his neck. If you didn’t know better, you’d imagine his cheeks turning a slight pinkish shade. You want to take a closer look, but the second his eyes land on yours, you avert your gaze, scrambling to put the movie back where it belongs.

But because you are so incredibly clumsy, you drop the tape. And to your utter dismay, you and Steve reach for it at the same time to pick it up again and your hands touch. A pulse like an electric shock runs through you, and you pull your hand away as if you’ve been burned, which Steve obviously notices but doesn’t comment on.

“I assume you’re looking for a horror movie?”, he asks you as he stands up again and puts the cassette back in its place. You nod, even though you only stumbled into this aisle by accident, but you can’t muster the courage to tell him that.

“Y-Yes. Uhm, is there one you can.. recommend?”, you ask with an uncertain smile, wiping your sweaty hands on your pants. His eyes never leave you, which makes you feel uncomfortable, so you try to distract yourself by browsing through the shelves.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Steve trying to look casual as he searches for the perfect spot to lean against the shelf, fixing his hair while doing so. Suddenly, you realize he seems just as nervous as you.

“Honestly, I know I may not look like the guy, but I absolutely hate horror movies”, he admits, smiling awkwardly. His comment makes you giggle, which puts a victorious smile on Steve’s face. At the same time, he looks like he just heard something very beautiful for the first time.

“I’d definitely protect someone from a killer though!”, Steve quickly adds, wanting to hear that beautiful sound one more time. However, he leans just a bit too far against the shelf, and a handful of VHS tapes nearly tumble out – only for him to catch them all at the last second, arms flailing but somehow successful. You turn away and hide your smile behind your hand, unable to believe that Steve would act like that, and in front of you of all people.

You’re just a girl and he’s the Steve Harrington.

“I mean.. You probably have someone in mind you want to watch it with, but, you know, if you don’t we could.. I don’t know. Hold hands through the scary parts?”, Steve suggests. And regrets it the very second he says it because what the hell is he even thinking?

You’re such a beautiful, smart, thoughtful girl, and he blows it by spouting off some weird comments that don’t even suit him or his personality anymore. Two years ago, Steve might have said something like that with confidence, but this Steve, right here? He’d rather dissolve into thin air and never come back.

He doesn’t really want to admit it: that he’s lost his charm with girls. He’s seen you so many times in the cafeteria or in the stands at one of his games, but he’s never been able to work up the courage to talk to you. He’s imagined himself talking to you and making you laugh several times before. But now, when the perfect moment has arrived, he’s completely overwhelmed.

Steve is convinced he’s blown it, – something he is not exactly eager to explain to Robin, who set this whole situation up in the first place because she’s convinced that Steve finally needs to work on his love life – so he’s all the more surprised when you prove him wrong with what you say next.

“I don’t!”, you answer a little too vehemently, shaking your head. “I don’t have someone to watch it with. Actually, I don’t even want to watch a horror movie. I’m too scared.”

“Oh”, is all Steve gets out at that, the red of his cheeks slowly fading away. He just stands there now, closer than he’s ever been to you, unsure what to say. His hands are on his hips, his head bowed, as if he’s internally beating himself up over something.

“I’m usually more into, uhm... romance movies?”, you say with uncertainty, giving both of you a chance to escape this awkward and embarrassing situation.

At your words, Steve quickly looks up and gives you a small, gentle smile before leading you into another aisle teeming with romantic movies. He starts telling you about some of them, but you soon realize you’re not really listening. While he clearly distracts himself from the situation with chatter, you can’t help but become aware, once again, of how amazing he is. You’ve always assumed you didn’t stand a chance with him. Now you’re not so sure anymore, if the way he behaves around you is any indicator.

It’s this feeling that ultimately leads you to ask the next question.

“Would you maybe watch that one with me?”

You can practically see the moment the question lands: the flicker of realization, the brief pause as he processes it, and then the way he finally turns toward you with a frown, the VHS tape he was just telling you about still in his hand. You don’t even know what the movie ‘Grease’ is about — and it doesn’t matter. You just know you want to watch it with him.

Steve takes an astonishingly long time to come up with an answer, so you’re almost ready to tell him it was a stupid question and he shouldn’t mind it, but he beats you to it.

“Yes!”, he eagerly says, notices that it was maybe a bit too eager, and tries to act it off cool. “Yes, sure. I’d love to.”

“Great!”, you smile, shyly reaching for the tape in his hand.

“Great!”, he repeats it as if in a trance and hands you the tape. Unsure what to do with his hands now that he’s not holding onto anything for dear life, he wipes them on his pants and puts them in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“So.. Can I borrow it?”, you ask, embarrassed, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Of course, yes! Come with me for a moment!”

Steve leads you to the checkout island in the middle of the store, where he steps behind the counter and enters something into the register before looking back at you.

“Is this your first time borrowing something here?”, he asks, and it sounds like a question he’s had to ask several times in his short time working here. You nod in agreement and place the tape on the counter so he can scan it.

“Would you like a customer card? It’ll make this whole process faster next time”, he offers, and you nod again, placing your hands on the counter, nervously fiddling with them. Steve types something into the computer, and the focused expression on his face makes you smile to yourself. Quickly, you bite your lower lip to hide it. It only takes a few more seconds and the film and a brand-new customer card are in front of you, ready to go.

“Didn’t you need my name for that or something?”, you ask, surprised when you spot your name smiling back at you from the card. He knows my name, you think to yourself, trying to hide another smile.

“Sure did”, Steve smiles awkwardly, feeling like he got caught. “So, you want to come over to my house and watch the movie? Let’s say.. this Friday, 6 pm? We can grab something from KFC beforehand if you want.”

“Looking forward to it”, you smile back at him, storing the tape and card in your bag, trying to hide your nervousness about the fact that you will be having a date with Steve Harrington. You take a few steps backwards, your eyes locked on him as he runs a nervous hand through his hair.

“Can’t wait to see you on Friday”, he beams at you from behind the counter, waving shyly. You wave back and turn towards the entrance, your heart racing in your chest. You’ve barely opened the door and are about to leave when Steve calls after you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Oh, don’t forget you get a free movie voucher after renting your 10th film!”, he shouts, and you glance over at him, and now Robin too who joined him behind the counter. Smiling, you leave the shop, but Robin’s words still reach you before the door clicks shut: “This was embarrassing to watch, Harrington.”

Even as the cold autumn air cools your heated cheeks, you feel like your whole body is on fire. You can’t believe what just happened in there. That you have a date with Steve and he actually seems to like you.